


All my demons, you said, come and go with a haze

by cm (mumblemutter)



Category: Loki: Agent of Asgard, Thor (Comics), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Character Study, Incest, M/M, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-25
Updated: 2014-02-25
Packaged: 2018-01-13 18:14:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1236283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mumblemutter/pseuds/cm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki rewrites the past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All my demons, you said, come and go with a haze

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [吾之恶，你说，出没于薄雾间](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2134503) by [aivsl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aivsl/pseuds/aivsl)



_I cannot remember who said that our salvation must come_  
 _from a turn within our own nature and that there are no turns_  
 _and there is no nature. Oh, it was so dark inside the wolf said_  
 _the little girl with the basket after the hunters had killed_  
 _that beast who had eaten her, after they had cut him open to_  
 _let her out, although you don't hear that version so often anymore._  
 _Surely this is significant. Who hasn't lodged in the belly_  
 _of something, who hasn't been devoured? Do you remember?_

 

 

  

The All-Mother asks him what he wants, absolution or a clean slate. Loki doesn't understand: they are the same thing, are they not?

They look disappointed.

::

He's singing when the air shifts ever so subtly. The combined power of a trio of goddesses is a distinct type of thing. 

Loki turns the shower off, peeks out from behind the screen. "We have to stop meeting like this," he says, as he grabs a towel to wrap around his waist. "Have you come here for a purpose? If not I have a shower to return to." He affects a faintly flirtatious manner, then remembers one of them calls him son. Possibly. Loki's always been unclear on who exactly raised him. Or if he was raised at all, and not just written down by a yet another bored, disaffected god.

They only stare at him for a while, until Gaea clears her throat.

The mission is a success, as these things go: the intergalactic war was surely not his fault. Mostly.

Another memory is taken, merely a blink and it's as if it had never even happened. "But I still remember everything," Loki says. He wants to forget: these are not his sins.

"Consider it a privilege," the All-Mother says. There is a pause. "Or a curse."

::

He asks, "What happens as the memories disappear? Does reality change around it?" Not that he hasn't obsessively thought about this or anything. 

"Only stories. New ones take their place, and do not involve you. But they all end the same way."

It sits heavy in his belly, something akin to dread. 

::

Thor's in Asgardia instead of Midgard for once. Loki slips into his room, crawls into his bed as he sleeps. Thor opens his eyes when Loki straddles him, and Loki covers his mouth with his hand before he can speak. "Do you remember this, brother? Do you remember us?"

Thor takes his wrist, pushes his hand away. "Loki, what -" 

"Say you remember. Do you hate me?" 

"Of course I do not hate you." 

"But then do you love me?" 

Thor only looks more confused. Loki leans down and kisses him, and Thor slides his arms around his back. It shouldn't matter, should it? Those deeds weren't his to begin with. Murder weapon, not murderer. And so what is Thor? _His_ , the answer comes, quite resolutely.

"I love you," Thor says, with just the faintest glimmer of uncertainty. It's not right: Thor should love him more, not less. All the blood spilled between them is slowly being washed away, good deed by good deed. Loki kisses him again, because Thor will surely remember this.

After, Thor sleeps, and Loki watches him. The familiar planes of his face, the dip into the small of his back. Loki knows exactly where to touch him, even if half the encounters he - the other him - had with Thor were violent, searing them both. But Thor's touches were hesitant, exploratory. 

What else is he forgetting?

Thor stirs, opens his eyes. They clear after a moment, and he asks, "Loki?"

Loki leans down, whispers into his ear. A spell, a plea, a denial of the truth: _remember me, brother._

::

Thor kisses a trail down Loki's chest, his lips hot, almost burning. Loki's hands are so small against his arms, and Loki marvels at it for a moment. He moans when a kiss is laid on his hipbone, and Thor lifts his head to grin. It's an echo of the past, a smile reserved for someone not quite him and yet more or less exactly the same. 

"I do love you, you know," Loki says, and what he means is: he didn't love you like I do. 

Loki believes it because he has to, because anything else is unbearable. 

"I know," Thor says, and presses his face to Loki's belly. "I have always known."

::

"I know Odin was not the - I know he was not often kind to you," Thor says. "I know I allowed it more often than I should have." They are on the roof of the Chrysler building, Loki's legs swinging as he perches on the edge of a stone outcrop.

"It's the past," Loki says. "What does it matter?"

"It matters. How I treated you mattered." He pauses. "The younger - the younger you did not remember, but -"

"I am me," Loki says, and swallows down the guilt. "And the past matters only to those that choose to cling to it. I prefer moving forwards. Besides, dwelling is boring. We can just sit here and drink and make out instead, that's miles more fun."

Thor smiles, and leans in to kiss him. 

He tastes warm.

::

He loves his brother and hates him in equal measure, and always assumed the same of Thor.

But now Thor's merely ambivalent, merely fond. Not a god who has not suffered at the hands of a loved one: Odin took care of that. But a god that has not suffered at Loki's.

A god not defined by him.

And so, what is Loki, then.

"This is what you wanted, Loki," Gaea says.

"Perhaps I don't want it anymore. Stories can be retold, can they not?"

They shake their heads. The stories have been forgotten. Not even fallen into myth, but entirely gone. As if they had never been told to begin with. 

"There is only moving forwards, not back. That is all you can do."

::

"I brought you back because I love you."

"Despite everything."

"Despite? No, not despite."

::

"So do you like me more? Yes, no, maybe?" Loki asks hopefully.

America glares at her sundae. "You're a suspicious sort, that I know."

"But we barely know one another."

"Instincts, chico. That's what I have, what I trust. You're bad news, I can tell."

Loki bristles. "You can't judge someone you don't even know. I'm from Asgard, and we -"

"Yeah, and what kind of a god are you, anyway?" America narrows her eyes.

"God of trust and good deeds," Loki says, and puts oh his most earnest expression.

Picking glass off his coat afterwards, he's mostly grateful his magic can repair the rip in his shorts.

"I see you still have a way with women, brother."

Loki glares up at Thor, whose frame almost entirely blocks out the sun. He pulls Loki to his feet, brushes off the remaining bits of glass. Loki tilts his head, and tries, "What do you know of my ways with women, Thor?"

Thor frowns, then shrugs. "Not much, but I do not need to know your history to understand that when a woman throws you through a window, it is not because she wishes to accept your courtship."

Sigyn, Amora, Karnilla, _you_ , Loki wants to say. Do you not -

But Thor clearly does not. Instead merely squeezes Loki's shoulder, says, "Come. We are needed back at Asgardia. There is to be a feast, and I require the presence of my brother."

That no one spits at him, or shuns him, or is anything but polite or jovial towards him during the interminable celebrations brings a warm spark to Loki's heart. 

That Thor has a maiden under his arm and only pauses to offer Loki a friendly, impersonal smile on occasion does not.

"You seem troubled," Sif says, sliding into the seat next to him.

"How is your hair so black," Loki asks.

"Don't be silly, Loki. That story has been told a thousand times already."

"So tell me again. I wish to hear it for the thousand and first."

Sif tells the tale, and does not mention Loki's name, not the once.

::

Who would he rather be: the Loki that burns or the Loki that is largely forgotten.

Loki does not know anymore.

::

Reality changes; Loki does not.

"It's as if he doesn't even care anymore," Loki complains to America. She tolerates him nowadays, sometimes. It's comforting, her instinctive mistrust of him. He never thought he'd miss it: the suspicion. Even if he wasn't the one that did all those terrible things.

Or was he?

If he is the only one that remembers the stories, then shouldn't they be his own?

"Odin or Thor," America asks, with an edge to her voice that indicates she's just about done with Loki.

"Thor," Loki says. "Of course Thor."

"You talk about your brother like you're his boyfriend or something, chico. It's not healthy."

"It's not supposed to be," Loki snaps, unthinkingly.

"I could punch you again, if it would make you feel better."

Loki actually considers it, that's how much of a state he's in.

::

Loki dreams: his older self bearing down on him, hand around his throat. "Thor belongs to me," he says. "You belong to me. Everything you are, everything you ever were: mine to create, mine to destroy. Remember this."

He wakes up screaming, to the fading burn in his throat and between his legs.

"Brother, are you alright?" Thor's hand is on his chest, and when he stares down at Loki he looks concerned.

"I'm fine, go back to sleep, Thor."

Thor merely continues to frown, as if he is wondering who Loki is, and why he has been allowed into his bed. 

"Go back to sleep, brother." He touches Thor on the cheek, and Thor turns his face into his palm, kisses it.

::

Loki finds Thor on Midgard's moon, staring down at the realm. "It is beautiful, is it not," he says wistfully, as Loki sits next to him.

"I am not a child of the realm, so it's entirely possible if don't feel that same affinity."

A furrow appears between Thor's forehead. "I wonder -" but then he sighs, sinks down into some kind of melancholy. 

Loki puts his head on Thor's broad shoulder, tells him, "This is for the best, I promise. Forgetting is better than the remembrance of pain."

Thor sighs, and Loki cannot even convince himself that he believes this to be true.

::

He - the other him, has hated Thor for centuries. The burning is as much Thor as it is anything else: not just the throne of Asgard, but his brother at his feet, his knee to the ground. Not just the fear and respect of the other gods, but Thor's fear, Thor's respect. 

In a darkened corner of a club, Loki watches as Thor comes for him. He is taller and bigger than everyone else, but it's not his size that makes the crowd part for him, melt away to stare in faint awe. Loki waves his hand, makes them all turn their attention elsewhere. 

Thor says nothing, merely glowers. 

"It wasn't me," Loki says.

"What do you know of what I was about to say?"

"Experience?" Loki shrugs. "It was for a good cause, I promise. Trust me." He leans in close, feels Thor's breath against his. Sweet, like mead. "My exploits are boring. Surely we can find something more productive to do with our time."

"And what might that be?"

Loki slips his hand under Thor's armor, wraps it around his cock. Thor shudders, but remains otherwise still. "You presume a lot."

"I presume nothing." 

All of this has happened before. Not everything has to change. Thor allows him to fall to his knees, to take his cock into his mouth. His hand settles on the back of Loki's head, and Loki presses his face close. 

::

Time passes, and people hate him less. Except for Thor, who just grows colder. "But why aren't you -" Loki begins, and cannot finish the thought.

"Yes?"

"Do I need to try to destroy you like he did? Do I need to burn for you to love me?" He caresses Thor's face, and is allowed to do so. 

"I do love you." 

"Not the same."

"I don't understand," Thor says. "Help me understand."

"He defined you," Loki says, and for the first time, _he_ understands.

::

"You can have what you no longer are or you can have the promise of an unmarred past," the All-Mother says. "Are you certain this is the path you want?"

"Yes. I want to escape my stories." 

"Then take this." Gaea gives him a bottle, filled with malevolent air that swirls red and black. 

"Is this -"

"It is harmless. Merely an echo of what once was. Open it when you are ready." 

::

America asks, "So you're the god of what again?"

"Indecent sexual acts," Loki says, and smiles. "The best kind. Oh, the things I could teach you."

"I heard Patriot shut you down. Now I understand why. You have terrible game for a god of sex."

"I'm out of practice." Loki tries for another smile. "But maybe we could -"

This time, Thor isn't there to witness him flying through the glass.

::

If you had asked the Loki that burns: what kind of a god is his brother? Loki might have said: impulsive, pig-headed. A bully and a glutton, and witless to boot. Proof that the realms exalt stupidity and violence. 

If you had asked the Loki who was a child: what kind of a god is his brother? Loki might have said: a protector, a hero. Someone who would sacrifice his life to save others, someone worthy of worship.

If you ask the Loki reborn: what kind of a god is his brother? Loki might say: a god who struggles to do what's right, fights for those who cannot fight for themselves. Loves wine and women the right amount, and his family far too deeply.

So then who is that god if he doesn't have the sting of the dagger in his side to accompany that endless bounty of love?

A lesser god, surely.

::

"How do you feel," Loki asks.

"Incomplete," Thor replies.

::

"Did you think your life was your own," the other him says. "Your life is bound to others. Your stories are. Change them and you change not just your past, but your present as well. Do you know why you burn?"

Loki weeps. "Because I am Loki. That is what I do."

"Aye," the other him says. "It is." 

The vision fades away, its magic spent, leaves him alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to [Schaudwen](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Schaudwen) for [the idea](http://lokisergi.tumblr.com/post/76309509505/) behind the fic. Verse taken from "[It Was So Dark Inside the Wolf](http://www.webdelsol.com/LITARTS/Alice_James_Books/Gaspar/gaspar_wolf.html)" by Frank X. Gaspar.


End file.
